Sea Dragon Heir

by Constantine, Storm

  6

  PERSUASION

  DURING THE EVENING, while Tatrini made a show of entertaining and ultimately seducing the female Palindrakes, Varencienne managed to exchange a few private words with Merlan. “You must come to my chambers later,” she said. Merlan smothered his surprise with a laugh, as if she’d just made an innocent witticism. “Valraven is home,” he murmured. “It would hardly be appropriate or tasteful.” “The last place you’ll ever find him in is my quarters. I might speak to him later, but first I must speak to you. It is vital.” “People might observe us. What about your lady-in-waiting?” Varencienne frowned. “Use the servants’ door.” She described quickly how to find this. “The stairs open onto the little kitchen in my chambers. Twissaly won’t be there. Her room is nearby, but she’s a heavy sleeper. You’ll have only to walk down the servants’ run on the right of the kitchen to reach the maid’s door to my bedroom. I will leave it ajar. It is concealed behind a curtain. If anyone should be with me, I’ll make sure to talk loudly, then you can wait behind the curtain till they leave.” Merlan smiled. “I smell conspiracy. Am I right in thinking you are preparing to tell me something I dearly want to hear?” Varencienne smiled back. “We must talk.” She spent the rest of the evening tense with nerves and excitement. Part of her welcomed her mother’s ideas, while another part of her still felt suspicious and uneasy. Bayard had come to Caradore full of plans to wake the dragons, but they had ended in tragedy. Could the same thing happen again? Varencienne wanted to discuss this with Merlan before proceeding. This alone was strange. Normally, her instincts would be to go to Pharinet for discussion, but for some reason she found the idea of this difficult. Was her newfound lust perverting her common sense? She hardly knew Merlan really. Before midnight, Tatrini invited all the women to her chamber for a hot liqueur before bedtime. She claimed she had brought the best merlac with her from home. “It is a tradition in Magrast for womenfolk to toast the night together,” she said. “Please come. All of you.” Everna, Oltefney and Pharinet could hardly decline, but Varencienne said, “Mother, would you mind terribly if I didn’t come? I’m really tired.” “No, of course not,” said Tatrini. “You do look rather haggard. You’ve been gadding around too much! Off to bed with you at once. I shall expect to see you for a nightcap tomorrow evening though.” Varencienne inclined her head and bobbed a polite curtsey. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  IN HER ROOM, Varencienne did not undress, but paced the floor nervously. How long would it be until Merlan could sneak away from the gathering downstairs undetected? Would Valraven try to keep him up? Presently, she heard a rustle by the maid’s door and the curtain lifted. Merlan came into the room; gingerly, as if the floor was hot beneath his feet. Varencienne went to him swiftly and they embraced, but he was the first to pull away. “What’s this about?” “My mother,” Varencienne said. “She has come here full of schemes.” “Now there’s a surprise,” he said dryly. Briefly, Varencienne related her earlier conversation she’d had with the empress. “She has the same aims as you, but perhaps not the same motives.” Merlan snorted derisively. “Hardly the same aims. She wants to instate her son as tyrant. That is hardly my cherished goal.” Varencienne took hold of his hands. “But will that matter? You said yourself that my mother was the most adept magician at court. With her participation, won’t some of your desires be realized? She will not know this, of course, but I think there is a poetic grace in that. Why should she know everything?” Merlan regarded her contemplatively. “You are right, of course. But this is too sudden. Perhaps not a good idea. I don’t know.” He looked perplexed. Coldness stole through Varencienne’s body to settle in her heart. She drew away from him. “You need instructions, don’t you?” she said in a dull voice. “This isn’t part of the plan.” He glanced at her sharply. “There is no plan,” he said. “Just ideas.” “Whom do you need to consult? Maycarpe?” Merlan was visibly discomforted. “That would be impossible. It would take too long.” Varencienne expelled a wordless sound of disgust and turned away from him. “You’re as bad as she is. All that talk of trusting me instinctively! It was a lie, wasn’t it? You came here brimming with your mentor’s instructions to get at me, to seduce me.” “Ren …” She could feel him moving towards her and wriggled away before he made contact. “No, I’ve hit on the truth, haven’t I?” “You’re over-reacting. Of course, Maycarpe and I talked of this situation, and even possible strategies, but I never planned to seduce you.” “Careful words. What about the rest? Did you hope to find me stupid and gullible?” “You are a Malagash. There was no chance I’d ever think that.” Varencienne clenched her fists and snarled beneath her breath. “Right, that’s it. I’ll be no part of this. Get out.” “Ren!” He took her by the shoulders, turned her round to face him. “Think about what you’re saying. There’s more to this than our feelings. I never intended to hurt or insult you. You are a remarkable woman. if Valraven was king in this land, you’d have power too, and you are the right person to wield it.” “Oh, so now you’ve changed your mind and think I should go along with my mother’s plan? What about Maycarpe?” Merlan closed his eyes and shook his head. “Forget Maycarpe. I’m thinking of you. Of us.” “Us?” She laughed coldly. “And what are we? Thieves in the night stealing ephemeral pleasures. There is no ‘us’ beyond this visit. You know it. I’m Valraven’s wife, and if you had your way, he’d be living here all the time as lord of Caradore. Would you sleep with his wife beneath his nose? This is just a brief affair.” Merlan pulled her to him, but she remained stiff and unyielding against his body. “Don’t you think I know that? It grieves me. I will never meet anyone like you again.” He took her face in his hands. “But we have a chance to help initiate a great change. Caradore can be restored. Our feelings are irrelevant in comparison to that. If you won’t do this thing for yourself, for me, for your mother, or Valraven, do it for Rav and Ellony. Think of their futures.” Varencienne pushed him away from. “Don’t use my children to get at me!” He raised his arms in exasperation. “Ren, please!” The main door to the bedroom opened. Varencienne froze in a posture of horror, while Merlan jumped backward towards the maid’s entrance. At the threshold stood the empress’s lady-in-waiting. “What are you doing here?” Varencienne demanded. The woman grimaced. “Forgive my abrupt intrusion, Your Highness, but your mother requested that I station myself here for your service. I have to inform you that Lord Palindrake has just arrived and now waits in your sitting room.” “Tell him I will visit his chambers shortly.” The woman’s face remained expressionless. “He was most insistent he should see you now, even though I told him you had gone to bed. May I conduct him here?” Her glance flicked towards Merlan at the hidden doorway. Varencienne recovered her composure. “Yes, yes, of course. Allow me a moment to ready myself.” “I shall do my best,” said the woman and departed. Varencienne turned round, but Merlan had already gone. She sat down on the bed and pressed her fingers against her face. Valraven would not be pleased to have been intercepted by the empress’s woman and prevented from seeing his wife immediately. He was used to walking into these rooms whenever he wanted to, even if that was only rarely. Would he be suspicious? Varencienne attempted to compose herself. Why was he here? She heard footsteps in the corridor beyond her door. He was coming. A deep shiver passed through her, and she was compelled to turn quickly and look behind her. There was no one there?no one she could see?but she sensed she was being watched. Merlan must still be hiding just beyond the maid?s entrance. He wanted to hear this interview. Varencienne wasn?t comfortable with this, but she had no time to order him away now. The door was opening. Valraven came into the room and closed the door behind him. Varencienne perceived immediately an unusual air about him. He was agitated about something. “My lord?” Varencienne said, rising from the bed. She realized that she was still fully dressed, which hardly confirmed the lady-in-waiting’s assertion that she had gone to bed. Valraven did not appear to notice this discrepancy. “There is a matter I wish to discuss with you,
” he said. For a brief, chilling moment, Varencienne thought he knew about her affair with Merlan. He would not be jealous, but he would chastise her nonetheless, because she was his wife, his property. “And what matter is that?” she asked. “A dangerous matter. It is my belief that we must both take great care at this time.” Varencienne felt a slump of relief within her. This wasn’t about Merlan. But what was it about? “I don’t understand. What danger is this?” “It is to do with your family,” he said. “Your mother is here for a reason.” “What reason?” Varencienne could almost see the fear hanging about Valraven like a dark smoke. This was the man celebrated for his fearlessness, who was rumored to be supernaturally invulnerable to attacks. He had lived through a hundred battles, perhaps taken a thousand lives. He had ordered executions and torturings. What could make such a man afraid? “Varencienne, I feel you already know some of what I wish to tell you. Let us speak plainly. Your family has a penchant for sorcery. You know as well as I do what has been attempted here before. You also know the consequences of that. When your mother asked me to escort her here, a feeling came to me. It was the same strange feeling I had on the morning when your brother performed a ritual on the beach below the castle. It has a smell to it I recognize. It is the smell of danger and evil.” Varencienne stood up and walked slowly around him, although she took care not to touch. “Danger and evil? Valraven, you are an incarnation of that, aren’t you? What makes you so afraid? It is knowledge of yourself, a terrible truth?” “I know all the truths about myself. I do not fear them. I do not fear for myself at all, but for my family, my children.” “What was it Bayard tried to do, and that you fear my mother wants to attempt again?” Varencienne had to know the answer to this question before anything else. How much was Valraven aware of his heritage? Had the women been wrong about him all along? “You know the answer already,” he said. “Do I? Perhaps I do, perhaps I don’t. I wasn’t there. All I know is what I’ve been told. Now I want to hear it from you.” “I won’t play games with you, Varencienne. Don’t take me for a fool.” She saw the hardness creep back into his eyes. She must not push too far. He didn’t want to speak of that day, and probably attempted to repress all memory of it, so she must coax the story out of him. “It’s not a game. It’s important. I need to know what you think happened.” “Why?” She drew in her breath. “We are not lovers, Valraven, or even friends. You have come to me seeking an ally. Please indulge me. My question is not without portent. Now tell me. What did Bayard try to do?” “He called something out of the sea, something ancient. It was something our ancestors threw in there, to hide it. Bayard wants it, and so does your mother. I believe they need Palindrakes, me in particular, to gain possession of it, but I have felt it, and never want to feel it again. It is an ungovernable power. We have lost the knowledge of how to control it. Now, it can only wreak destruction.” Varencienne nodded. “You are correct in your assumptions. But what if I tell you that I know why Bayard’s procedure went wrong? What if I say that you can wield that power again, and that I know how?” He looked at her with fierce black eyes. “I would say you are your mother’s creature, and I have wasted my time coming here.” She shook her head. “You would be wrong. I am my own creature, Valraven, no one else’s. Any action I take will be selfish, to preserve myself and that part of myself which lives in the children. When Bayard performed that ritual, Ellony Leckery was the weak link. Pharinet warned Bayard, but he didn?t listen. That would not happen again.? “It wasn’t just Ellony,” Valraven said. “Something entered into me, into all of us. It would have happened whether Ellony had been stronger or not. I cannot begin to describe to you what it felt like.” He sat down on the bed, his eyes unfocused as he remembered. “I have witnessed the most terrible things. I have seen the worst of human nature. I have seen despair beyond imagination, and pain and grief. I have inflicted those things on people.” He glanced up at her. “You are right. I am an incarnation of evil, for I can do those things without feeling, without caring. But the reason I am like this is because of what happened that day on the beach. It needs what I do to exist. I have to feed it. It lives deep within me. I had to fight it, push it down deep into my soul. If it is evoked fully again, I will be lost. I will become destruction.” His hands clenched upon his thighs. “Don’t think I fear for myself. I don’t care what happens to me. But I don’t want to destroy what is left of Palindrake. And I will. I can sense it.” He closed his eyes briefly. “When I am here, at Caradore, I am completely aware of what I am, what I’ve become. I remember the boy I was, his innocence. He looks out from a cage behind my eyes. He is the witness. What lives in me now is an engine of war. To win territory, to conquer men: these things give me temporary respite from an urge I can neither understand nor describe.” He looked up at her. “There is no remorse inside me for what I do. It is my duty for the empire. I want to feel something, but I can’t. That, perhaps, is the worst of it.” He shook his head. “That day, when Bayard took us to the shore, I believed he would show me something wonderful. We would all be changed. What arrogance!” Varencienne was silenced. She would never have believed Valraven could speak to her in this way. He was showing to her his inner self, or what remained of it. She could not doubt his sincerity. She sat down beside him and took his hands in her own. He did not flinch or pull away, but neither did he relax or move towards her. “I understand your fear,” she said softly, “because I know the nature of what took control of you that day. You are right, my family knows of sorcery. But what my mother seeks to do is erase all Bayard’s mistakes. That power you felt, it could be yours, as a force of creation not destruction. You are from a water family, Valraven, despite your current affinity for fire. Fire can only destroy, but water has the potential for both destruction and creation. It can erode and smash, but it is also a medium for life. Peace can never come from fire or, if it does, it is the peace of silence when all is burned away. Peace can come from water. Think about it.” He was looking at her with curiosity and a faint glimmer of hope. How hag-ridden he was, how desperate inside to be free of what rode him. “I am a Splendifer,” he said, “given to the fire of Madragore. I feel it is the only thing that tempers the force inside me. Whatever it was, it came from the sea. It is water.” Varencienne nodded. “I understand your feelings. Your perspective is skewed, that’s all. You are right, I do know why my mother is here, and you are also correct in assuming she wishes to reopen this matter from the past. But she seeks to heal it, to make changes for the better. Val …” Varencienne leaned closer towards him, “you must believe that I have the means to save our son, and all the other sons of Caradore, from a life in the imperial army. I can make you King of Caradore.” He became suspicious again, pulled away from her. “You sound like Bayard.” “Don’t make that mistake,” she said. “I am very different.” She paused. “You should know that Bayard still loves you. He is not a perfect creature, but he has the potential to be great, just as you do.” Why am I saying these things? she thought. Do I believe them? Valraven sighed, his expression grim. “Bayard still loves me. Of course. That’s why he did all he did.” He laughed bitterly. “He did it for love.” Valraven stood up, expelling an exasperated snort. “Love? You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what happened to Khaster, to Tayven.” She went cold. “What did happen?” “I could have prevented it, but I didn’t. When I acted, it was too late. All was lost.” “What do you mean?” she said. “Tell me.” He shook his head vehemently. “No. Almorante made me vow to keep silent and I will. It is a shame upon your family.” Varencienne stood up beside him. “You must tell me, you must.” “I can’t,” he said. “But it assures me no good can come of anything Bayard tried to do here. I don’t know what your family has told you, but I can never be king here, Varencienne. Nobody wants that. They just want the power they think is mine.” He laughed coldly. “And I do not even know what that is. I have no name for it.” “I do,” Varencienne said softly. He turned away. “I don’t want to hear it. I came here to see
k your aid in preventing your mother from doing anything. If you do not share that desire, I must leave. I must stand against her alone.” “Then you have nothing to fear. She cannot act without you. She needs your co-operation. You must do this of your own free will.” Valraven regarded her for a few moments. “I cannot believe Tatrini’s intentions are benign.” “They are,” Varencienne said. “I have spoken to her at length. I have not lied to you. She too has asked for my help, which is why I said I could make you king. She requires complicity from both of us. Oh, Valraven, think about this matter! Nobody wants Gastern to inherit. He is a fanatical ascetic. It is time for change. People realize that, many people. You are part of that change, and so am I. It is not just about sorcery, but politics.” He was silent for a moment. She knew her words had shocked him. “Is Almorante behind this?” “No.” “Bayard?” “No. Tatrini. She is trying to retain control of something that is very unstable.” “But if Gastern doesn’t inherit, who will? It will mean assassination. Is this what your mother really wants? Is this the reason behind everything?” He shook his head in disbelief. “She will give me Caradore if I give her Gastern. She thinks I have the capability to sway the military’s loyalty.” “I don’t think it’s that simple.” “Who is it, Varencienne? Who does your mother want on the throne?” “Oh, who do you think?” she said fiercely. He grimaced. “Bayard, the most unsuitable candidate. Even little Leo would be a better choice. I can’t condone that. Bayard’s a maniac. He’s no Leonid. Your father believes in what he does. He is a man of Madragore, fighting for what he sees as a holy cause. Gastern might not share his father?s nobility, but Bayard cares only about indulgence of the senses.? “Mother thinks otherwise. She sees potential in Bayard. He may be damaged, as you are, but that damage can be reversed.” Valraven shook his head again. “It’s as if Leonid has already gone, or doesn’t exist. He’s in the prime of his life. Where has all this come from? Are we speaking of a revolution here?” “Mother is concerned for my father’s health.” “Really? I would imagine she’s the primary threat to it.” He growled through his teeth. “The Malagashes are a demon tribe. I want nothing to do with their conniving.” “We must think about ourselves. What will happen will happen …” she paused, in wonderment, and then spoke slowly, “regardless of what we think or do.” She sat down. “That was the message. Great Foy.” She put her hands against her face, suddenly breathless. “What message?” She looked up at him. “From Khaster.” “What?” “I don’t know whether he’s alive or dead, Val, but I saw him at the Chair on the Mage’s Pike. He said, ‘It will happen regardless of what you think or do.’ I just spoke those words without thinking.” “Khaster is dead,” Valraven said softly. “He spoke to me.” Valraven turned away, clawing a hand through his hair. “What is all this? How many strands are there to this weave?” Varencienne stood up again, went to her husband. “Val, we have to do it. We have to follow our destiny. I know I’m right. Trust me. We must go to Old Caradore.” “What? Why?” “It is the only place. We must turn back time there, make things right.” “You are deluding yourself.” “No! You must believe me. I have seen and heard things since I’ve lived in Caradore that you would not imagine. I am in touch with this land. I sense what it needs. What will happen in Magravandias may be beyond our control, but we have our own corner of the world to take care of. Let us take this opportunity when it?s offered.? She believed it herself now. ?Khaster, or his spirit, will take care of you. He is present among us.? “No one, alive or dead, could have that much capacity for forgiveness,” Valraven said. “Perhaps he doesn’t forgive you. Perhaps he just knows what should be.” Valraven was silent for a moment. One day, Varencienne would wrest all his stories from him, but not yet. Tonight, he had shown her he was just a man. He had given her power. “What is it you think we have to do?” he said. She spoke quietly. “Go to Old Caradore. It is where Bayard’s ritual should have taken place.” “Must we do the same thing again?” “Not exactly. Our intention must be to expel this dark influence you feel. It must be remade in its true form.” “Which is?” She felt inspired. “The spirit of this land, free from bitterness and fear. Knowledge will be given to you there. I cannot give it to you, you have to find it for yourself.” “You do not know how much I want to believe you.” “I know. I will not ask you to trust me. All I ask is that you dare to dream.” He stared at her for a moment. “If you are wrong, all is lost.” She nodded. “I know, but I’m confident I am right. Go to my mother. Tell her you will lead us to the old domain.” He hesitated. “You surprise me. You are a contradiction.” She laughed coldly. “How do you know that? We are virtually strangers to one another.” Again, a pause. “Are you implying you want that to change?” She stared back at him. “No. I believe we function perfectly well as we are. I can never be the queen of your heart, Valraven. You know that.” He looked away from her. “I’ll go to your mother, but never forget that the consequences of this night will lie mainly in your hands. Can you accept that responsibility?” She inclined her head stiffly. “I have already done so.” Valraven bowed curtly to her and left the room. For a few moments, Varencienne stood motionless in the middle of the room, her face pressed into her hands. What had she done? A change had been initiated. Were her actions right or had she simply fulfilled her mother’s desires? Her mind was in turmoil. A noise from across the room prompted her to raise her head. Merlan stood against the door curtain, his arms folded. “I am greatly impressed with you,” he said. “Well, I’m not with you.” Varencienne rubbed her forehead. A needling pain had started up behind her eyes. “You had no right to eavesdrop on my conversation.” He laughed and came forward to embrace her. “Don’t be angry. You were incredible. I could almost believe you were inspired by genuine feeling.” Varencienne uttered a wordless noise of annoyance and pulled away from him. “Maybe the feeling was genuine,” she said. “Despite everything, he fascinates you, doesn’t he?” Merlan remarked. He sounded curious rather than affronted or jealous. Varencienne remembered the day she had first seen Valraven Palindrake, the brief flutter of excitement that meeting had kindled. “It is pointless for anyone to feel that way,” she said. “My marriage to Valraven can never be anything more than it is.” Merlan made no comment. He sat down beside her, took her hands in his own. “You must make sure I’m included in the party to Old Caradore.” “Must I?” She examined him stonily. What had happened to their feelings for one another? Only the day before they had been lovers. Now, it felt different. He squeezed her hands. “Ren, don’t be bitter. I know it must seem as if I’ve used you, but …” “And haven’t you?” she snapped. He sighed. “Used is not the right word. I’m not that callous.” He pressed the backs of her hands briefly to her lips. “Our affair might only be brief, because of circumstances, but even if you weren’t Valraven’s wife or Leonid’s daughter, I would still have wanted you. Please believe that.” She couldn’t resist laughing. “You are trying to be gracious, I know. You have a glib tongue. Is this why Maycarpe thinks so highly of you?” He looked uncertain and his grip upon her hands became loose. She drew her fingers away and patted his hands. “It’s all right, Merlan. I understand. I?m not angry, just resigned.? She leaned over and kissed him and he pulled her body against him. “Ren …” “Hush. I want to ask you something.” “What?” “Do you know what happened to your brother Khaster?” She felt his body stiffen against her. He let her go and briefly pressed a hand to his mouth. “What do you mean?” “You heard what Valraven said. You must know what he was referring to, otherwise surely you’d have commented on it the moment you walked back into this room.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. “I know some of it, although it’s not a subject I ever mention in Caradore.” “Is he alive?” Merlan sighed. “I really don’t know. Bayard hated Khaster. He was jealous of him, for many different reasons. Khaster didn’t help himself. He couldn’t resist making the odd jibe to Bayard whenever the opportunity presented itself. It was a dangerous game, and he lost.” “In what way?” “I heard all this secon
d, maybe third, hand. I don’t know how much of it is true. Once Khaster returned to Magrast after Ellony’s death, he was in a poor state. Almorante took pity on him. He always had a high regard for Khaster. I heard that Almorante engineered a situation between Khaster and a boy named Tayven Hirantel. The lad came from a very high ranking Magrastian family. He was a creature of Almorante’s, no doubt sent into rather dubious royal service by his parents. In Magrast, that would be seen as an honor. It’s said that Tayven helped Khaster get over what had happened in Caradore. I really don’t know the extent of their relationship, because information of that kind cannot be trusted from a Magravandian. They would always assume such a friendship was sexual in nature. Knowing Khaster, I find that difficult to believe, but even so, Tayven was a good friend to him. Unfortunately, it gave Bayard a weapon to use against my brother.” He frowned, shook his head. “The details are muddled, but something happened in Cos. Bayard had his cronies murder Tayven in a way only a mind like his could devise.” “No!” Varencienne said. “That’s my brother you’re speaking of. I’m sick of Caradoreans saying these terrible things about him.? Merlan stared at her for a moment. “I’m sorry, Ren, but it happened. That part of the story, at least, I know is true. Almorante himself had to deal with the situation afterwards. It was all covered up, but I know it happened.” “How did Bayard allegedly kill this boy? Perhaps it was an accident.” Merlan laughed coldly. “I can assure you it wasn’t. I don’t want to describe it to you.” “I’m not squeamish. Tell me.” “No. Suffice to say, it took a long time for Tayven to die. Someone told Khaster what was going on and he went to Valraven for help.” Merlan broke off and pressed his fingers hard against his eyes, shaking his head. “I have lived that moment for Khas a thousand times. What must he have felt like, pleading with his oldest friend to save the life of someone he loved, when he knew what Tayven was going through at that very moment?” “What did Valraven do?” “Nothing,” Merlan said bitterly. “He alone could have dealt with the situation, but he refused even to listen to Khaster’s pleas. Almorante was in Magrast. Khaster was effectively alone. He could do nothing.” “But why wouldn’t Valraven help?” Varencienne asked, perplexed. Merlan shook his head. “Who knows how his mind works? People said that his behavior in Cos had been strange and erratic. He used to cut himself with his own blade, apparently. Whatever happened here in Caradore badly affected his mind. The kindest thing I can say is that he wasn’t himself. You heard tonight that he would not speak of it.” “What happened to Khaster then?” “The next day, a skirmish occurred in the hills nearby. I heard that Khaster was like a man of stone. He led his men into battle, and in the chaos, they lost sight of him. Later, a body was found that was said to be Khaster’s, but not everyone believed it was. A lot of the men felt he’d lost his mind and simply run far into enemy territory. I really don’t know, Ren.” Varencienne felt chilled. She could not speak. Merlan took her hand again. “Promise me you will never speak of this to my mother and sisters.” She nodded. “You have my word,” she said in a dull voice. “It would kill them, especially your mother.” “Nor Pharinet and Everna. Nobody. Promise!” His urgency shook her from her numbed lethargy. “I do. I do. I just needed to know, that’s all.” “You can’t be glad to hear it.” “I’m not.” She sighed heavily. “Can’t you look for him, Merlan? Can’t someone try to find out the truth?” “People did look. Later, when Almorante heard what had happened, he sent people into the hills, some of his most skilled trackers. They searched for many months. There was no sign of Khaster. If he is still alive, he wants to remain hidden.” “Perhaps he’s forgotten his life, who he is,” Varencienne suggested. Merlan shook his head. “Let it go, Ren.” He paused and then stared at her knowingly. “I think you’ve spent too much time in the portrait gallery at Norgance.” She ignored this. “I can’t believe you can just let it rest. If your mother knew, she’d do everything in her power to find Khaster. She’d never stop looking.” She realized at once the rude and insensitive implications of her words. “I’m sorry. That was vile of me. I didn’t mean to insult you. You lost a brother.” “I went through my grief years ago,” Merlan said. “I’ve had to reconcile myself to the fact that Khaster is lost to us. To you, it must seem like a recent event. I’m not insulted.” “Do you hate Valraven for what he did, or rather didn’t do?” Merlan sighed. “No, not really. You can’t hate someone who’s so damaged. Bayard was responsible. And one day he will pay for his actions.” “He is my brother,” Varencienne said defensively. “And I love him. You said yourself you don’t know how much of that story is true.” “Ren, I’m afraid you’re going to have to face up to the fact that, painful though it may be, your brother is not the person you want him to be.” Varencienne drew her fingers over her face, her shoulders slumped. “Very few people are, it seems.” “You must forget about this. Think about what’s important now.” She nodded. “I will. I’ll make sure you are included in the party going to Old Caradore. That’s what you want isn’t it? I owe you something for what you’ve told me.” “You owe me nothing for that,” he said, then paused. “Perhaps I’d better go now.” She smiled wearily at him. “No. Stay. I won’t be disturbed again tonight.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. I want to feel something now, something physical. You can give me that.” She reached out to touch his face. “We are all selfish creatures, Merlan, every one of us.” Merlan left her bedchamber before dawn. Varencienne could not sleep. She lay in bed, mulling over the previous night’s revelations. If what Merlan had told her was true, then Bayard should never be emperor. Bayard. She saw his face in her mind’s eye. Could he really be this monster the Caradoreans believed him to be? Merlan’s story had changed things. She knew now she must retain control over this situation. If she was to go along with her mother’s plans, it must be for Valraven’s sake, not Bayard’s. “Oh, Bay,” she said aloud to the cold room. “Who are you?”